


No more lies

by marmolita



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Bisexual Foggy, Episode: s01e10 Nelson v. Murdock, F/M, Heterosexual Matt, M/M, Missing Scenes, One-Sided Attraction, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everybody lies, Matt, but not about things as important as this!  Yeah, maybe I've told some little white lies over the years, but when have I ever lied to you about anything actually important?"</p>
<p>Matt shifts around on the couch like he's uncomfortable.  Hell, this whole day has been uncomfortable.  "You've been lying to me about your feelings since the day we met.  Is that not important?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	No more lies

"You're just a guy, right? A really, really good-looking guy."

Before the words are even out of his mouth Foggy regrets them, and when Matt makes a little face and says, "Oh, um…" he _really_ regrets them. He backpedals into some line about women, and whether or not Matt believes him he drops it.

Okay, so his new roommate is a very attractive, very heterosexual man. Foggy's just beginning to admit to himself that maybe he has more than an aesthetic appreciation for gorgeous men, but Matt's clearly uncomfortable so he can keep his mouth shut. Besides, he doesn't want to be a creep to the dude he's going to be living with.

When he finds out Matt is Catholic, and not just grew-up-in-the-church Catholic but carries-a-rosary-in-his-pocket Catholic, he figures maybe it's best to just not mention it to him at all. Foggy prefers women anyway, so unless the right kind of guy comes along, he might as well let Matt think he's straight too.

***

It's the little things that Foggy notices: the way Matt's T-shirt tugs tight across his stomach when he turns to reach for something, the way his jeans stretch over his ass when he's bending down, the way his adam's apple bobs up and down when he swallows. A million little things every day, every moment, that make his blood run hot and his lips get dry.

Foggy's starting to come to terms with the fact that not only is he bisexual, but he really, really wants to fuck his best friend.

It's not like he's going to do anything about it, because 1) Matt is straight as an arrow and Catholic besides, and 2) they're roommates, awkward much? But a guy can look, and since Matt can't see him doing it, Foggy looks his fill.

Matt, coming out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his waist and beads of water dripping off his hair.

Matt, doing push-ups first thing every morning like he's a soldier in boot camp.

Matt, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip while his fingers run over the pages of his textbooks.

And yeah, a few times, Matt, tangled up naked in bed with a beautiful woman, a sight to fuel Foggy's masturbatory fantasies for months.

He takes care only to jerk off after Matt's asleep, when they're still living in the tiny dorm room with no privacy. He knows Matt wouldn't be able to see him but he'd still hear it, so he waits until Matt's breathing evens out and he turns his back to him. Jerking off while watching someone sleep is a fucking creepy thing to do and Foggy knows it, so he turns his back and just imagines Matt, kissing the woman he was seeing a couple weeks ago, sliding his hands around her waist and up to her breasts, lifting her up by the hips to straddle him. Foggy strokes himself slowly while he thinks of what it must be like, straddling Matt and grinding against him, feeling the planes of his chest and the sharp points of his hips, tasting his lips and tongue.

Sometimes, he thinks he hears Matt stirring and stills his hand until Matt's breathing evens out again. Foggy gets really familiar with Matt's breathing.

***

It's probably about two o'clock in the morning, but Foggy's had so many shots of tequila he doesn't really care. Two years of law school down, one to go, and he's going to celebrate getting a better score than Matt on his Advanced Civil Procedure final if it kills him. Of course Matt's going to celebrate it too, because what are friends for, right?

They're staggering down the street, half-heartedly arguing over whether to go to another bar or stop off for some falafel, when a guy on the street wolf-whistles and calls out, "Damn, that is a sweet ass!" Foggy cracks up laughing and Matt just has that confused crease between his eyebrows.

"What's so funny? Some woman getting catcalled?"

"No, my friend, _you_ are getting catcalled. There's like five guys over there checking you out, I think we just walked past a gay bar." Foggy glances back and starts laughing again. "Yeah, it's called 'Poles 'n Holes.'" The name is so ridiculous Matt starts laughing too, and pretty soon the whole incident is forgotten when they realize that the falafel place has a full bar and they can kill two birds with one stone.

Later, sprawled out on the couch together in their tiny living room, Foggy loses his train of thought in the middle of a sentence and Matt laughs at him. "They were right, you know," he finds himself saying.

"Who was right? About what?"

"Those guys. Have you _seen_ your ass? No wait, blind, of course not." Matt just laughs and shoves Foggy's shoulder playfully. That's where it should end, where it normally ends, but Foggy's had so much to drink that it's like his lips and tongue are moving without asking the rest of his brain for permission first. Matt's got one foot up on the coffee table and his arms spread over the back of the couch; his cheeks and nose are flushed from the alcohol, and his shirt is riding up just enough to expose an inch of the smooth skin of his abdomen. "I wish you could see yourself like this. You're so fucking gorgeous. You've got this ridiculous body and this stupidly attractive grin and god _damn_ if we weren't besties and you weren't straight I would love to suck your dick right now." _Shut up shut up shut up_ repeats in the back of Foggy's mind, but it's too late, the words are out, and he can't put together enough brain cells to even back out of this and make it into a joke like usual.

"Foggy, I--"

"No, I mean, it's just not fair. That you're so hot and you can't even appreciate it." He leans closer to Matt, slumping into Matt's shoulder, suddenly drowsy with drink and the warmth of Matt's body. "I'm so fucking drunk," he mutters. "Wake me up if you want a blowjob."

The next morning -- afternoon, really -- Foggy isn't quite sure if he actually said all of that or if it was just a dream. For good measure, he acts like he can't remember half the night, and thank god Matt says he doesn't remember either. Foggy resolves to try to stop fantasizing about Matt and focus on people he might actually have a chance with. He calls Marci and asks her out the same day.

***

"Look, Foggy, if you don't actually want to be with me then let's not bother."

"I _do_ want to be with you, I just--"

"Just what? Just not enough to move in with me?" Marci is angry, really angry, not just play angry, and Foggy feels like shit about the whole situation.

"I just feel like it's moving too fast," he replies quietly.

"We've been dating for a year and a half. I'm 27 years old, and I'm not getting any younger. If you're not going to commit to anything it's not worth my time." Oh god, she's still angry but now she looks like she's going to cry, and Marci crying is so out of the ordinary that Foggy bites his own lip to keep it from quivering too. "It's because of Matt, isn't it," she says quietly.

"What? No, what does Matt have to do with any of this?"

"You don't want to move in with me because you don't want to move _out_ of the place you're sharing with him."

"...it's a nice apartment, and it's not that easy for a blind guy to find a new roommate."

Marci lets out a puff of air that's halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Yeah. Sure."

"Do you--"

"Just-- Just go, okay? We're done. Just go."

Foggy opens his mouth to speak again, but instead swallows the lump in his throat and goes. He walks out her door, down the stairs, out into the street, and makes it all the way to the corner before he stops and leans against a wall, closing his eyes and letting his head thump back hard enough to hurt.

Later, he'll tell Matt that it just didn't work out. That's what Matt says about all of his girls, right? It didn't work out. Matt's a good friend. He won't ask.

It takes him a while to figure out that maybe Marci was right about why he didn't want to move in with her. When their lease comes up, right after graduation, Foggy tells Matt that he wants to move into his own place. With the salary Landman and Zack is going to pay them as interns, he can afford it, and so can Matt. They'll still see each other every day, but that little bit of extra space turns out to be exactly what Foggy needs to finally kick this thing to the curb for good.

***

It's the sound of his breathing that Foggy recognizes first, that makes him drop his phone and come closer to the masked man on the floor. His breathing, then his body, then his mouth, and Foggy's heart is pounding in his chest but he reaches for the mask and pulls it back.

"Matt?"

Jesus Christ, it _is_ Matt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Foggy mutters as he pulls the mask all the way off and slaps at Matt's cheek. "Matt, can you hear me? Are you alive?" His heart is racing as he looks over Matt's body, swallowing hard when he sees the steady stream of blood dribbling out of the big gash on Matt's abdomen. "God, Matt, what the fuck happened to you?" He shoves his fingers against Matt's throat, relieved when he finds a thready pulse.

Matt groans weakly and opens his eyes, and Foggy breathes a sigh of relief. "Matt, Matt, stay with me, I'm gonna call 911 and get you to a hospital okay?" He fumbles for his phone, but Matt suddenly starts thrashing and knocks it out of his hand.

"No," Matt gasps. "No hospitals."

"You're _dying_ Matt, you're bleeding out on the floor of your apartment, what the hell is _wrong_ with you?" Foggy knows he's shouting; he can't control it, his gut is clenching and his whole body is trembling with anxiety, because Matt might die, he could _die_.

Foggy gets up and goes to get his phone where it's skidded across the floor. He's starting to dial again when he hears shifting behind him and turns to see Matt somehow hauling himself up off the floor, standing, staggering, blood dripping everywhere. "No, what? Sit down! I'm calling for help right now."

Matt's breathing sounds awful; he's gasping and groaning as he fishes something out of his pocket and reaches out toward Foggy with it -- a phone. "No hospitals," he says again. "Call Claire."

"Claire? Who the fuck is Claire? You need a doctor, Matt, you need a surgeon, you probably have internal bleeding and you need a CAT scan and an MRI and a _hospital_." He enters in the last 1 in 911 and moves his thumb to hit the call button when Matt lunges at him, knocking the phone away with one hand and swinging for his head with the other. The punch connects with his temple, sending Foggy staggering back a couple of steps. If Matt wasn't in such bad shape he can't imagine how badly that would have hurt, and that's such a disturbing thought that Foggy can't handle it right now, he can't handle anything other than making sure Matt doesn't die because Matt is collapsing on top of him.

"Call Claire," Matt mutters again as they fall to the floor together. "No hospitals."

***

It's a tense twenty minutes waiting for Claire to arrive, with Matt laying unconscious on the floor and Foggy trying to hold pressure on as many of his wounds as he can like Claire had told him to over the phone. Foggy watches the tick of Matt's pulse in his neck, feels his chest rising and falling under his hands, and tries to convince himself he's not making a horrible mistake by trusting Matt and not calling 911.

Trusting Matt. Ha.

He'll have time to be angry later, but right now he's mostly just terrified of losing his best friend. "Oh thank god," Foggy says when he hears the door open and Claire comes in. She dumps her bag on the floor and starts checking Matt over, and he relaxes just a little bit. He has no idea who Claire is but she seems like she's a professional.

Once she takes over, Foggy fetches water and towels and hands her things she asks for from her bag like he's some kind of medical assistant. She doesn't seem to think that Matt's about to die, so Foggy gradually starts to calm down. He doesn't say anything to her while she works, afraid to distract her and make her mess up, but when she sits back on her heels and strips off her gloves, he asks, "Are you a doctor or something?"

"I'm a nurse," she says, wiping her brow. "ER. We get a lot of bullet and stab wounds."

"How long have you known that Matt is the man in the mask? How'd you end up on his speed dial?"

Claire makes a face like she's thinking about how to answer. "I don't think it's my story to tell. Not if he hasn't told you about all this already."

She stands up and stretches. "I gave him a sedative. He'll sleep at least until morning." She checks her phone and sighs. "I have to get back to work. Can you stay with him and keep an eye on him? Once he wakes up he'll need a lot of help."

"Yeah, I mean, uh. Yeah. Is he gonna be okay?" Foggy is proud of himself for the fact that his voice doesn't break.

"They missed all the major organs, so yeah, I think so. Try to keep him off his feet for a while so he can heal. Call me if he starts to run a fever."

Claire grabs her bag and heads for the door, and Foggy stares at Matt, covered in stitches and bandages and bruises, so overwhelmed he almost forgets to say, "Thank you."

***

"Are you telling me that since I've known you, any time I wasn't telling the truth, you _knew_? And what, you just played along?" Foggy's heart skips a few beats and fuck, Matt knows that it does, and if he wasn't so angry he'd be awed by it.

"Basically."

"If you weren't half dead, I would kick your ass, Murdock," Foggy spits out. "Am I lying about that?"

"No," Matt says quietly.

There's a sinking, twisting feeling in his stomach, and Foggy swallows against the knot in his throat. "Was anything ever real with us?"

Matt blushes, he actually blushes, and says, "Everything was real, Foggy."

Foggy drops his head into his hands and squeezes hard on his temples just to make something other than his heart hurt. There's this empty pit somewhere in Foggy's chest, and this thick lump in his throat, and the whole thing makes him feel sick. What makes him feel worst of all, though, is that the thing that's really eating at him isn't the fact Matt has all these enhanced senses, or the fact that Matt is going out nearly getting himself killed, or even the fact that Matt fucking _tried to murder someone_. What's eating at him is the fact that Matt has always known when Foggy was lying.

It's such a goddamn stupid thing to be upset about compared to everything else. It's such a classic _Foggy_ thing to be upset about; he always stresses about shit like this when he should be stressing over things that are way more important. Buildings are blowing up and the city is going to shit and his bank account is getting dangerously low, but the thing that he keeps dwelling on is that Matt _knows_ , Matt has _always known_ , from the very first day that they met, that Foggy had a thing for him.

It's been years, and Foggy is over his attraction to Matt, but it's just so fucking embarrassing and he can't let go of it.

Did Matt remember the stupid-ass things Foggy said when he was drunk, the ones he claimed he didn't remember? Did Matt notice the thousands of times his breath and pulse quickened when he watched Matt changing clothes? On those nights that Matt brought home women, could he hear Foggy jerking off in the next room, listening to them, imagining what they looked like together?

Mostly, he wants to run and hide. He wants to leave, get out of Matt's apartment, go drink himself under the table somewhere that doesn't remind him of Matt.

But Matt is barely able to sit up yet, much less handle the necessities of self care, and no matter how angry Foggy is he still cares about Matt too much to leave him like this. He brings Matt clothes and water, helps him to the bathroom, gets him a blanket, and Matt looks so fucking pathetic Foggy almost feels sorry for him. Almost.

"That time I told you that I didn't know anything about why David stopped showing up to class. You knew I was lying?"

"Yeah, when I heard he was kicked out for cheating I figured out you'd turned him in."

"The time I told you Marci had invited both of us to her birthday party?"

"I know she just invited you."

"The time I told you I had a great vacation with my family over the holidays?"

"You came back smelling like a funeral home. Flowers, ashes, embalming fluid. You never told me who died and I didn't think you wanted me to ask."

Foggy sighs. "It was my great-aunt Edna. I hated her, but my grandma was really broken up about it. I can't believe you knew and pretended you didn't. I can't believe you lied to me about this for so long."

"Look, I know I fucked this up, okay? I know everything is a mess. I know it's my fault. But do you realize how it sounds for you to be mad at me for _lying_ when what you're really upset about is that I know when _you're_ lying?" Matt's angry, but his point stops Foggy's thoughts in their tracks. "It's not like you've been completely honest with me since the day we met either, or you wouldn't be so upset about that."

"Everybody lies, Matt, but not about things as important as this! Yeah, maybe I've told some little white lies over the years, but when have I ever lied to you about anything actually important?"

Matt shifts around on the couch like he's uncomfortable. Hell, this whole day has been uncomfortable. "You've been lying to me about your feelings since the day we met. Is that not important?"

Well, shit. Foggy's been dancing around the subject even though it's eating him alive, but Matt's just going to come right out and say it. "No! I mean, it's _embarrassing_!" He knows his whole face is probably turning red because he did not want to ever have this conversation with Matt. "It's embarrassing as hell and I can't believe you played along all this time but it's not _important_! It's not like the reason I didn't say anything is because I didn't trust you, I didn't say anything because I knew it wouldn't go anywhere so why bother?" He stands up and starts pacing. "But you, though, you didn't tell me this because you didn't _trust_ me."

"Foggy, I trust you, I've always trusted you, but maybe . . . maybe I didn't think you could deal with it. The same way you've been not dealing with your-- your _feelings_ for as long as I've known you."

Foggy stops and turns to face Matt. "Not dealing? _Not dealing_? How the hell am I not dealing? You think I'm pining away for you? Dreaming of the day Matt Murdock is going to stop being straight and stop being Catholic and sweep me off my feet?" He laughs; it's an ugly laugh. "Don't give yourself that much credit. I wanted to fuck you, Matt, not date you."

"You say that in past tense like you don't want to anymore. I can-- I can _tell_ , when you're thinking about it. Your body heat changes, your heart rate--"

"Jesus, I didn't think this conversation could get any more awkward." Foggy sits down again and wipes his hands over his face like he can wipe off the flush. "I _am dealing_ , like normal people deal. I have relationships! I have a life! Do I get turned on sometimes watching you? Yeah, okay, I do. I also get turned on when I watch Beyoncé music videos, but that doesn't mean I'm not dealing with my feelings for Beyoncé."

Foggy shuts his mouth. Matt's cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink. The silence stretches, then finally Matt says, "I'm sorry."

***

"I wouldn't have kept this from you, Matt. Not from you."

"You don't know that-- You don't know that." Matt sounds defeated. Foggy _feels_ defeated.

"Yeah, I do." He's never been so sure of anything in his life. Matt calls after him, but Foggy keeps his gaze straight ahead as he walks out the door.

No more lies. No more secrets. If he has to hear or tell one more lie Foggy thinks he might have a nervous breakdown. He sniffs and wipes at his eyes, takes a deep breath, then pulls out his phone to call the one person who's always been entirely honest with him.

"Marci? Yeah, it's me. Can I come over?"

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to [atrata](http://archiveofourown.org/users/atrata) for putting up with me whining about writing this for so long, and for helping me whip it into shape. Thanks also to tumblr user intoxicatingimmediacy for additional beta help and suggestions! This is the first Daredevil fic I started but the 9th one I finished, so that tells you how long I've been trying to get it put together. I may have hastily booted it out the door as soon as it resembled something reasonable.


End file.
